The Hurricane (4 page)

“Boy or girl?” he asked.

“Err, girl,” I replied, embarrassed.

“Good. I hope she’s got a bit of spunk about her. You need someone to bring you out of yourself.”

“How do you know this isn’t the extrovert me?”

“Huh,” he grunted. “If this is the extrovert you then the introvert you must be bloody mute.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended.

“So, this is the reason why you’re so cheerful then?” he enquired.

“I guess,” I replied, swirling the spoon around my coffee. “She’s very different to me, but she seems really nice.”

“It’s about time you made some new friends and starting living a little. Life is for the living, my girl, and anything else is just marking time.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to become a social butterfly overnight. It’ll just be nice to have some company at school, that’s all. Making friends is fine but going out with friends usually requires money. I need as many shifts as I can get at Daisy’s to pay for school. You know that,” I explained as I sipped my coffee.

“’Bout that. I’ve been having a think to myself, and I reckon we could help each other out, you and me.”

“How do you mean?” I replied.

“Do you trust me?” Of course, I trusted him. Up until yesterday, he was probably my only friend in the world. But when someone asked if you trusted them, it was usually because they were about to put that trust to the test.

“I trust you, but I’m not sure how you think we can help each other.”

“Thing is, I’ve got a business down on Barking Road here in Canning Town. It’s not really all that big, so up until now I’ve been doing all the books myself. Ain’t much work, just a couple of nights a week, but I’m ticking on now and most nights I’m just too tired to take care of it. Now, last few years business has been good, so I’m thinking to myself that a bookkeeper is a mighty fine idea. Course, I’m not paying through the nose for it.”

I listened politely until his meaning sank in, and I was floored.

“You want me to do your bookkeeping?”

“Well, now that you mention it, girl, I think that would be a grand idea.”

“But how do you know if I’m any good, and more importantly, how do you know if I’m trustworthy?”

“You’re not much good at interviews, are you, girl?” His question was obviously rhetorical, and before I could say anything else, he continued.

“I’ve known you for over a year. You’re polite, punctual, and smart.” Only Danny could bark out my best qualities like he was reading stats off a baseball card.

“I can check on your work, and as for being trustworthy, you’d have to get up early in the morning to get one over on me. So, what do you say?”

“Thanks for the offer, Danny, but I don’t think I can add another job in with school and the shifts I’m already doing.”

It sure was tempting, though. Most days my feet ached and my back hurt. The chance to get paid to sit at a desk and do something that for me was bread and butter was one I should be snapping Danny’s hand off to take. But Mike had been good to me, and if nothing else, I was loyal.

“I’ve already had a chat with Mike and Rhona, and they’re happy to drop you back to your original two shifts a week if you can finish out weekends until the end of your rota. You can pick up two nights a week with me after school, and I pay forty percent better than Mike for the sort of work you’d be doing.”

I did the math in my head, and with that pay, I could drop down to working four evenings a week on better pay than I was making now. More importantly, I’d have three nights a week off and no more dawn starts. I could have cried with relief. This morning I was stressing over new gloves, and now I felt like doing cartwheels. Danny really was an angel. Then a horrible thought occurred to me, and my face dropped.

“Are you sure the work is there, though? I’d hate to get there and be twiddling my thumbs because you’re just trying to help me out.”

“The only person I ever help, sunshine, is myself. Rhona and Mike need you Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and if you don’t mind, you’ll be working for me Thursdays and Fridays. Now...,” he spit on his hand and held it out to me, “do we have a deal?”

I grimaced at the spitting, but shook hands firmly with the angel of my salvation. I had a new friend and a new job in twenty-four hours. I was, most definitely, on a roll.

UN-FRICKIN-BELIEVABLE. There was absolutely no way I was going inside. I clutched the piece of paper tightly, on which Danny had written the address of his business, and looked up again at the number above the door in the hopes that I was wrong. I felt so stupid. I, who questioned everything, had never asked Danny what sort of business he ran. Apparently, my streak of fortuity had come to an end. I was standing outside of the heavy oak doors of Driscoll’s Boxing Gym.

A thickset arm reached from behind me to pull open a door by the polished brass handle, and I was jolted forward as the biggest man that I had ever seen caught me with the edge of his gym bag. As he walked inside, oblivious to the knock, he turned to hold the door open for me.

“Well then, darlin’, are you coming or going?”

I said nothing but swallowed hard. He chuckled at my obvious discomfort, winked, and let the door fall shut behind him. I stood staring at the doors like a zombie. The guy was huge and fiercely intimidating, but I hadn’t felt even slightly scared of him. A little overwhelmed, maybe, but not scared.

“Fuck it,” I said aloud, pulled the door open, and walked in with more bravado than I actually felt. I passed slowly though a narrow corridor and up a flight of steps as the sounds of the gym grew louder. On the right was a huge notice board, covered in posters promoting fights, and handwritten notes advertising equipment for sale. Among all the signs was one that read, ‘FRIDAY IS SUBS DAY. IF YOU HAVEN’T PAID YOUR SUBS DON’T EMBARRASS YOURSELF BY HAVING TO BE ASKED FOR THEM.’ That explained why Danny wanted me at the end of every week. If that was when subs were paid, chances were that was when he paid bills and wages, too. Knowing I couldn’t stand in the corridor forever, I approached the gym as unobtrusively as I could. The place was much bigger on the inside than you could ever guess from looking at the street entrance, and it was absolutely packed. At the back of the gym was a full-size boxing ring but all around were stations where fighters were training, some with hanging punch bags and others with speedballs or just pads. Caught like a deer in the headlights, and with a death grip on my shoulder bag, I scanned the room for Danny. One or two of the fighters noticed me and stared inquisitively, but much to my relief, no one stopped training.

My gaze stopped on Cormac O’Connell, and I doubted there was another woman under sixty whose eyes would have drifted any further. I was right about him being tall. Even from this distance, he looked to be at least six-foot-five. His back was to me as he tapped fist to fist against a speedball, and what a view it was from behind. Broad shoulders rippled with definition down to a lean waist. He was too far away to see any detail, but the tattoo that I’d glimpsed beneath his shirt spanned his arm from his elbow all the way to his shoulder and around his upper back. It was as hot as the body it adorned. As though O’Connell could feel my eyes on him, he stopped punching and turned to meet my stare. Just like that, his face lit up with a smile. Not a cocky throwaway grin, but a genuine smile, like he was really pleased to see me. I felt as though he’d caught me gawking and looked away. Thankfully, my saviour, and the one who’d gotten me into this predicament in the first place, came to my rescue. Despite my fear that he would, he didn’t shout across the gym at me, but when he spotted me from a door at the back of the room, I had the sense that he wanted to. He stomped my way, and I was amused at the sight of big burly fighters hurrying to move.

“Found us okay, then?” he asked.

“You run a gym?” I squeaked stupidly, stating the obvious.

He motioned for me to follow him as he ploughed another path through the fighters.

“I’ve had this gym for over thirty years. Don’t think I could ever work for anyone else. I live, breathe, and sleep this place. Smells like home to me.”

“It smells pretty bad, Danny,” I replied, with another squeak.

“It smells like hard work and pride, sunshine.”

I felt ashamed. I’d been knocking Danny’s livelihood when he’d been kind enough to offer me this job. Not knowing how to dig myself out of this one, I kept quiet.

“Don’t worry about it, girl,” Danny smirked, “you’ll soon get used to it.” He led the way to his office. With one last look over my shoulder at O’Connell’s curious smiling face, I followed him in.

I didn’t know what I expected, but there weren’t many signs that Danny spent a great deal of time here. Facing the door was a large walnut desk, which sat in front of a battered leather swivel chair. A much lower, comfier looking, but equally battered chair, faced it. Danny pointed to the lower chair with a chuckle.

“I make the boys sit there if they have to explain to me why they haven’t paid their subs. Does the gobshites good to sit lower than me while they squirm.”

I think it amused the secret masochist in Danny to watch big guys feel intimidated. Hell, I felt intimidated just being in the same room as him, and I probably weighed more than he did wet, which was saying something, given my stature. A blind, thick with dust covered the large picture window behind the desk. In the little space left in this tiny room, a filing cabinet and small table, on which sat a coffeemaker, were tucked to one side. The desk housed an older looking computer and a huge stack of papers, so I had no idea where he wanted me to start. I asked him, and he chuckled.

“Start wherever you like. I’ve been told I should computerise my records for the next tax year, but I haven’t got a feckin’ clue how those things work,” he said, banging hard on the monitor.

“One of the boys sorted me out with the computer. Said it should have all the stuff you need. There’s a copy of last year’s return in the cabinet. Most of my receipts for the year are on the desk and entries for dues are in the ledgers, so just see what you can do.”

I sat down with a thump in the office chair and looked around dejectedly.

“Too late to back out on me now, sunshine.”

I frowned at the mess before me, and he looked at me like he knew I was going to bolt at any second. I probably would have, too, if I hadn’t been feeling so guilty about offending him earlier.

“Okay, Danny. I’ll give it a go.”

He nodded at me then jerked his head in the direction of the coffeemaker.

“Help yourself to coffee. I’ll come and see how you’re getting on later.”

With an audible sigh as he closed the door, I dropped my bag under the desk, draped my coat across the back of the chair, and got to work. By the time Danny returned, I’d given the desk a rudimentary dusting and had sorted the mess of paperwork into some semblance of order.

“So, how did you get on?” he enquired.

“Danny, your books are a mess,” I beamed.

“If they’re such a mess, what’s put that grin on your face?” he retorted.

“I had fun making some sense of the chaos, and it’s a lot less stressful than waitressing.”

“Well, so long as I’m getting my money’s worth,” he huffed, but I could tell he was pleased that I hadn’t bolted.

“Tomorrow’s sub collection, so the boys will be by through the evening to drop ‘em off. That okay with you?” he asked.

I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being alone, in a tiny office, with some of these guys. But this was part of the job, and Danny was paying me too well to turn my nose up at it. I’d had a great time burying myself in the books, and if any of the boys made me feel uncomfortable, I’d mention it to Danny. That didn’t mean that I wasn’t going to make myself sick between now and then worrying about it, though.

“It’s fine,” I mumbled quickly, before I could talk myself out of it. Nodding curtly, he gestured his thumb towards the door.

“Come on then, sunshine. You’ve overstayed your welcome. You get off home now, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I shut down the computer, making a mental note of what I needed to bring tomorrow, threw on my coat, and slung my bag over my shoulder as I headed out of the door. Although the gym had emptied a little since I’d arrived, I was surprised to see people still training. As dedicated as they were, I hoped they didn’t notice me skulking toward the door.

Outside, the cold crisp air threatened snow, and I breathed deeply before rocking on my heels and contemplating how long it would take me to walk home.

“Hello, sunshine,” a voice spoke softly to me, as warm breath grazed my ear. I jumped and put my hand over my heart, as though that could alleviate the impending cardiac arrest. I turned to see O’Connell behind me. Too late, I realised that I’d instinctively cowered away from him, flinching against a blow that never came. His face dropped, as he understood what I’d done.

“Ah shite, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just trying to be friendly.”

He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence, and I was mortified.